Inspection
by tfm
Summary: It's inspection time, and backstory inconsistencies are coming back to haunt them. gen.
1. Aaron Hotchner

**Title: **Inspection  
**Rating: **PG**  
Fandom: **Criminal Minds**  
Characters/Pairing:** Hotch - gen  
**Genre: **Parody**  
Summary: **It's inspection time, and backstory inconsistencies are going to bite them in the ass.  
**Author's Note: **In terms of logistics as to how a fictional character can be real, think of this as a TV version of Jasper Fforde's Thursday Next universe, which you should all totally read, because it's really awesome. In any case, if a logical plot is what you came for, then you'll probably be disappointed anyway.

*** * ***

**Inspection**

Plot-wise, it was a late Thursday afternoon, about a day and a half before the next case was due to kick in. It was sweeps, apparently, which meant that the case would be grueling, both physically and mentally, and Hotch was fairly sure that Reid was going to be kidnapped again.

He really hated ratings season sometimes. It was all well and good for the networks, but his team were the ones that had to go through the trauma. Just because they were fictional characters didn't mean they couldn't feel pain.

In any case, due to the fictional nature of the job, he wasn't actually required to do anything while the narrative wasn't in his hands. He was free to roam the boundaries that had been laid out within the universe, as long as he got back in time for the case.

Most of the time, Hotch preferred to remain in the office, going over paperwork – it helped with his characterization. His head lifted at a knock on the door.

Hotch frowned.

The man was professionally dressed; suit, tie, suspenders, glasses. Not technically out of place in the building, but at the same time, something was off. He was too detailed to be an extra, and yet Hotch couldn't remember having seen him anywhere before.

'Agent Hotchner?'

'Who are you?' Hotch asked sharply, eyes not moving from the strange man that stood in the door of his office.

'Paul Swift, Department of Continuity in Fictional Media. I'm here to inspect your canon.'

Hotch's frown persisted. 'Inspecting our canon? In the middle of sweeps? I thought such inspections were usually conducted during the summer break?'

'There have been some complaints. Inconsistencies in backstory, and so on and so forth.' He clicked his pen twice against the clipboard in his arm. 'I'll need to interview the main cast.'

Hotch moved towards his desk phone, but Swift interrupted with a terse, 'That won't be necessary. I've made the arrangements for them to return to the office. I'd like to talk to you first, if that's alright.' He paused, taking note of something written on the clipboard. 'Get the worst over and done with.'

'Excuse me?' Hotch asked, his eyes narrowing.

'Tell me, Agent Hotchner.' Without waiting for an offer, Swift sat down in the chair opposite Hotch's. 'How did your father die?'

There was a long, pained silence.

'According to my notes, you attributed your father's death to a heart attack in the season one episode, _The Tribe_, and to lung cancer over a full season later in _Ashes and Dust_. Which is it?'

'It's not outside the rules of continuity to lie to a suspect,' Hotch pointed out.

'But it is outside your characterization,' Swift countered, 'And Improper Characterization is a far greater offence than Backstory Conflict. In any case, Evan Abby was not a suspect at the time you revealed this information. This is a misdemeanor, so you'll probably only get a fine, but there are a few more inconsistencies I'd like to discuss.'

'Fine,' Hotch glared, already irritated by the inspector's presence.

'You were both a prosecutor, once upon a time, is that correct?'

'Yes.'

'And you were a member of S.W.A.T?'

'That's correct.'

'After which point you joined the Federal Bureau of Investigation?'

'Yes.'

'And according to your 1987 High School yearbook appearing in part one of _The Fisher King_, you're 39 years old. A number that is refuted by _Faceless, Nameless, _which puts your age at approximately 43. In either case, both numbers seem a tad…unrealistic, if you will.'

Hotch raised an eyebrow. 'I don't see how my career is "unrealistic."'

'Allow me,' Paul leaned forward. 'Allowing for graduation from high school at eighteen, College and Law School would have taken no less than seven years, after which point you were a prosecutor, for no short period, judging by your skills. Not even taking into consideration your time at S.W.A.T., it almost seems as though you've managed to fit two careers into one lifetime.'

Hotch said nothing.

'Need I remind you that the use of time machines and reality warpers in the Crime Genre is strictly prohibited? Under section twenty-seven, subsection four of the Code of Television Genres, you may, if you so desire, make the transition to Supernatural Crime, but that would incur a "Shark Jumping" fee. You toed the line with _Cold Comfort_ and _Demonology_, but any explicit references made in order to bypass the rules of continuity will result in a heavy fine. As it stands, efforts should be made in order to fix this timeline issue, or you will risk the possibility of being charged with a backstory felony.'

'Of course,' Hotch said, not even bothering to hide the venom that had started to seep into his voice. He had his reasons for the violations in question. Reasons that a man like Paul Swift could never understand.

Swift clicked his tongue, and made a few more notes on the clipboard. Hotch resisted the urge to pull it from his hands and hit him across the face with it. The Aaron Hotchner that the world knew would never do that, but then, they weren't exactly watching.

Swift looked up.

'Haley Brooks was your high school sweetheart?'

'I'd prefer not to talk about Haley.' Though her death had been necessitated by plot, it still stung. Everything stung.

'I'm just doing my job, Agent Hotchner – I'm sure you've asked your own share of painful questions.' Swift tapped the pen against the clipboard – the reaction was evidently a common one.

'Haley was my high school sweetheart,' he confirmed, the urge to grab the clipboard rising.

'You were together for almost twenty years before your son was born, then. Is there any reason why you decided to wait so long?'

'Career reasons,' Hotch said shortly.

'Really?' Swift raised an eyebrow. 'Are you sure it wasn't done so as to create character conflict emphasized by the choice between work and family? Subsequent storylines seem to indicate that that may be the case.'

'Regardless, just because something is unexplained does not mean it's an inconsistency.'

Swift gave a smirk, pen scribbling across the clipboard. 'You know, of all the people I interview, it's always law enforcement that seems to take it personally.'

'What I do is more important than any inspection,' Hotch replied testily, knuckles white as his fists clenched.

'While your series propagates the importance of family, and other positive messages, the serial killers you catch are _fictional_, Agent Hotchner,' Swift stressed, and Hotch felt a surge of anger.

'You think that just because we're fictional that makes us any less human?' Hotch stood, and Swift shrunk backwards slightly. 'I'm sure someone from the outside world wouldn't exactly understand our situation, but we feel everything that you do. We feel anger, we feel pain. We suffer. Every single _fictional_ victim feared for their lives before they died. Every single _fictional _serial killer is every bit as dangerous as their real-life counterparts.'

Swift looked a little taken-aback. 'I'm just doing my job, Agent Hotchner. I'm sure you can understand that too.'

He bent his head back down to the clipboard, scribbling for almost two minutes. He clicked his pen twice.

'I think that's all I need from you, Agent Hotchner. I'll be interviewing Agent Reid next.' His brow furrowed. '_Three_ PhDs? Hmmm.'

He stood, and held out his hand to Hotch. There was a few seconds of pained silence before Hotch shook the hand.

Swift went to the door, and stopped, as though considering something.

'My condolences on the spin-off,' he said finally, and closed the door behind him.


	2. Doctor Spencer Reid

**Title: **Inspection  
**Rating: **PG**  
Fandom: **Criminal Minds**  
Characters/Pairing:** Team - gen  
**Genre: **Parody**  
Summary: **It's inspection time, and backstory inconsistencies are going to bite them in the ass.  
**Author's Note: **So some of you were pretty keen to see this for all of the characters. Thus, by popular demand, I present to you:

*** * ***

**Inspection**

**Part Two: Dr. Spencer Reid**

Spencer Reid was not in possession of an office, and the interviews were not something that Swift wanted to conduct in the bullpen, apparently. He'd moved to the conference room, and Reid decided to give the man a few minutes before entering.

Swift had seemed flustered upon leaving Hotch's office, which made Reid relax slightly – he would no doubt be unsettled after experiencing a Hotchalanche.

Reid rapped his knuckles against wood, and, upon hearing the words 'Come in,' he pushed the door open.

'Paul Swift, Department of Continuity,' the man at the table introduced himself without looking up. 'Is that an FBI regulation haircut?'

Reid blinked twice. 'The FBI regulations in this particular universe are fictional,' he pointed out. 'My haircut is irrelevant to the storyline.'

'But it contributes to your credibility as a character.'

'You could say the same thing about the majority of female law enforcement officers – statistically speaking, a female character is more likely to wear her hair down, which, one could argue, is a significant safety concern. It's a creative decision, and by suggesting that I'm not allowed to wear my hair like this is discriminatory to my gender.'

There was a long, awkward pause.

'_Three _Ph. Ds?'

Reid nodded cheerfully, sitting in one of the numerous empty seats. 'Ph. Ds. In Chemistry, Engineering and Mathematics. Bachelor's Degrees in Psychology and Sociology.'

Swift clicked his pen, scribbling notes on his clipboard.

'And you're how old?'

'Twenty-eight.'

'Five degrees in the space of sixteen years, three of which were Ph. Ds. That's an impressive feat.' His tone was condescending, which Reid didn't appreciate in the slightest – he'd worked hard for his education, against all odds.

'I have an I.Q. of 187, I read 20,000 words per minute. Five degrees is not that unbelievable.'

'And yet I doubt any of your colleagues have more than two. Using a genius as an information dump seems like a lazy way of solving cases.'

'You might think that,' Reid said, 'But I'm consistently voted as the "Best Criminal Minds Character" in fan polls.'

'Non-statistical Internet polls,' argued Swift in reply. 'The demographics of which consist mostly of so-called fangirls, or women between the ages of eighteen and twenty-five, many of whom also believe that you are engaging in sexual relationships with _all_ of your colleagues, often simultaneously.'

'That's ridiculous,' Reid frowned. 'No relationships between team members are ever shown on screen.'

'It's irrelevant anyway,' Swift said finally. 'It's a matter for the Department of Shipping. I'd like to get back to your degrees, if that's alright.'

_No, it's not alright_, Reid felt like saying. This was an invasion of his – admittedly, fictional – privacy. 'Of course,' he said, with faux politeness.

'One small note of interest, first – your undergraduate degrees seem appropriate for your line of work, but then your post-graduate work suggests that you would be more suited to a science-based profession. Why did you make the decision to join the FBI?'

'I was approached by Agent Gideon, after I attended one of his seminars. And profiling is still a science-based profession. It just uses the science a little bit differently.'

Swift didn't seem to argue that point. Reid was only slightly disappointed – he had half a dozen examples prepared to give evidence to his point.

'You began your Psychology degree at twelve, upon completion of your high school education?'

'That's correct.'

'And you institutionalized your mother at eighteen?'

'Also correct.'

'Thus, you left your schizophrenic mother at home alone, while you went to study at the California Institute of Technology?'

For the first time in his life, Spencer Reid wasn't quite sure what to say. It was his backstory, but he'd never stopped to think about it logically – he was too busy making sure that his tie was sufficiently mussed.

Swift made a tutting noise, and wrote spent several minutes adding to his notes.

'Enough about your mother,' Swift said. 'I understand that it's a delicate subject matter.' Reid thought, perhaps, that the man was beginning to show some sympathy, but that thought was thrown out the window with his next statement.

'I'd like to talk about your father instead.'

'What do you mean?' Reid asked. He couldn't think of any of his father's actions that may have interfered with continuity, but then, it was within his characterization to think about his father as little as possible.

'In the episode _Memoriam_, William Reid gave his rationale for leaving as his inability to deal with the guilt surrounding the death of Riley Jenkins and Gary Brendan Michaels, when your were six years old. He _left_ when you were _ten _years old. Four years seems a rather long time for this guilt to manifest itself.'

'I can't comment on his state of mind.'

Swift raised an eyebrow. 'You're a _profiler_ – commenting on an individual's state of mind is your job. Furthermore, and I say this as a response to William Reid's characterization, it would take a heartless bastard to leave his ten-year-old son with a woman whom he knew to be severely ill.'

'Disappearing father figures is part of _my _characterization,' said Reid, almost bitterly – and his bitterness was not exactly directed towards Swift.

'And disappearing drug addictions, it seems.' Swift flipped the page on his clipboard, consulting the next point on his list. 'Apart from a few minor references in later seasons, your drug addiction disappears almost entirely, without mention of when, or, indeed, how you managed to overcome your addiction.'

'It occurred off-screen,' said Reid defensively – his Dilaudid addiction was not a particularly proud moment of his life, and he didn't care to have it brought up by someone like Paul Swift, who looked as though he'd never experienced the slightest amount of hardship.

'I see…And I have one final note to make, with regards to your inconsistent levels of genius. In early episodes, you show encyclopedic levels of pop culture with regards to fictional mediums, such as _Star Trek_, as well as some knowledge of the music industry, as evidenced by your reference to _Siouxsie and the Banshees _at the beginning of the season three episode, _Tabula Rasa_. However, in the season five episode _The Performer_, you are ignorant of perhaps the most widely advertised teen fiction of the last decade, have no knowledge of the classic novel, _A Clockwork Orange_, in addition to being dismissive of non-classical music. These two types of genius are significantly different to each other. Were you perhaps, abducted by a changeling that week?'

'If that's all,' Reid said, standing, purposefully ignoring the question. 'I have a scheduled re-read of _In Search of Lost Time_.'

'If you could send Agent Morgan in, it would be much appreciated,' Swift said, adding, after a pause. 'Not just from a continuity perspective, you really _could_ do with a decent haircut.'


	3. Derek Morgan

**Title: **Inspection  
**Rating: **PG**  
Fandom: **Criminal Minds**  
Characters/Pairing:** Team - gen  
**Genre: **Parody**  
Summary: **It's inspection time, and backstory inconsistencies are going to bite them in the ass.  
**Author's Note: **At the end

**...**

**Inspection**

**Part Three: Derek Morgan**

It would have been a Mexican standoff, only both of them were sitting down, and even fictionally speaking, Mexico was still a long way away. Derek Morgan was not particularly accepting of people coming in and trying to ruin the team dynamic, and this was no different.

Paul Swift clicked his pen, making a note on the clipboard. With each click, Morgan added a little bit more to the mental profile.

'I'm sure you've already found out why I'm here,' Swift said. 'Lord knows the FBI rumor mill could probably match light speed mile for mile.'

'I know why you're here,' Morgan said evenly. 'And quite frankly, I think you're wasting your time.'

'I understand that your team has something of a reputation for walking the fine line between the rulebook and insubordination, Agent Morgan. But the rulebook exists for a reason. And since your team has not filed for exception under the Doctor Who Clause, your continuity is subject to those rules.'

'We don't break the rules more than any other primetime crime show out there,' Morgan argued. 'Have you ever even _watched_ an episode of NCIS?'

'NCIS falls under the "dramedy" category – that's somebody else's department. And I'm not here to discuss the inconsistencies of other programs today – just yours. And for the record, your show's misdemeanors _are_ very severe, compared to others in its field.' He scanned the clipboard. 'I'd like to address your backstory first, if that's alright.'

'It's not like I have a choice,' Morgan replied sullenly. Swift gave him a raised eyebrow.

'Please don't make this any harder than it already is, Agent Morgan. Now let's see. You were born on the 6th of June, 1973, according to the episode _Profiler, Profiled_. However, in the same episode, it was noted that you were fifteen years of age in 1991.'

'Is there a question there?' Morgan asked.

'No. I was just making an observation. Your professional history notes that you went to Northwestern on a football scholarship. Allowing for undergraduate studies, this puts you through to 1999, after which you joined the Chicago Police Department?'

'That's correct.'

'During that time, you spent eighteen months in deep cover, before leaving to join the bomb squad?'

'Also correct,' he replied, a little unsure of where the conversation was heading.

'In the season 4 episode, _To Hell and Back, _you intimated that you had been in the Behavioral Analysis Unit for seven years, putting your date of start at some time in 2002.'

'So what? I didn't spend that long on bomb squad.'

'Bomb disposal is a delicate task, Agent Morgan. It takes training. So far, it seems you studied _law,_ went on to work bomb disposal, and somehow managed to gain a specialty in obsessional crimes along the way. Not to mention the fact that you somehow managed to join the BAU immediately after joining the Bureau, in spite of the rules set in place.'

'Rules?' he queried, regretting the question straight away.

'One must spend – at minimum – three years in the Bureau before joining the Behavioral Analysis Unit. In fact, most people don't get accepted without at least _seven_ years of experience. A rule, I might add, both you _and_ Supervisory Special Agent Reid have somehow forgotten about.'

'It's _television_,' Morgan told him, a little angry at the insinuation that he somehow lacked the experience to be in the unit. 'Fictionalization is what keeps people interested. There's no such position as profiler in the real BAU, but I don't see you bringing that up.'

'There is a certain level of suspension of disbelief involved,' Swift said sternly, tapping his pen. 'Which brings me to my next point…'

Morgan braced himself.

'Your unprofessional behavior.'

'What unprofessional behavior?' he demanded.

'Clearly, the fact that you don't even recognize your behavior as unprofessional makes the problem all the more serious. First of all, your propensity to flirt with – it seems – every single female character that has ever appeared on the show-'

'That's not true,' he cut in. 'I have _never_ flirted with JJ.'

'Such behavior,' Swift continued, 'Is inappropriate of a man considered for promotion.'

'Which is why I stopped when I took over the job.'

'Yet you saw fit to engage in a relationship with a victim's sister? That, in conjunction with your undeniable reckless behavior – tackling vans, tackling trains, driving ambulance bombs…the list goes on. I find it difficult to believe that you would be chosen for such an important position without having overcome these obstacles. There were no doubt many more qualified people for the position – Agent Rossi is no stranger to leadership, and even the introduction of a guest character could have elicited the needed tension.'

'Then blame the person that made the decision,' he replied hotly. He stared Swift down. 'I doubt you can blame a single bit of your behavior on poor writing. You have an almost obsessive fixation on your pen and your clipboard, which suggests an unhealthy fascination with your job. You're married, but you don't wear the ring to work, which tells me that you're probably separated, and you spent way, way too much on that Rolex.'

He stood. 'You might think that I'm a meathead, but I worked hard to get to where I am, and I don't think you know a damn thing about me, in spite of what you might think, so if you don't mind, I'm going to get back to work.'

Swift seemed unfazed by the reaction, calling out, 'Could you send in Agent Jareau, please,' as Morgan walked out.

He didn't look back.

**Author's Note: **Apologies for the lateness on this one. I have trouble with writing Morgan, and the CBS Fail has made me unthinkably bitter, which is also the reason why they will probably be a little more antagonistic from now. Sorry in advance. Thanks for reading anyway, and don't forget to tell me what you think.


	4. Jennifer Jareau

**Title: **Inspection  
**Rating: **PG**  
Fandom: **Criminal Minds**  
Characters/Pairing:** Team - gen  
**Genre: **Parody**  
Summary: **It's inspection time, and backstory inconsistencies are going to bite them in the ass.

**...**

**Inspection**

**Part Four: Jennifer Jareau**

A little apprehensive, JJ slid into the chair opposite the man. She'd had no warning of the visit, which concerned her more than the purpose of the visit itself. Reid had been uncharacteristically silent upon his exit from the conference room, while both Morgan and Hotch had looked like they were both just about ready to go on killing sprees (which was ridiculous, really, because they'd all signed waivers saying that they wouldn't).

Of course, part of JJ wanted to do it anyway.

'My name is Paul Swift.' The man held out a hand, and JJ leaned over to shake it. Her job description was to liaise between the BAU and any outside party, whether they be police, creative team, or Continuity Agent. Cordiality was the key.

'Jennifer Jareau,' she told him. 'Liaison.'

Swift frowned, flipping his clipboard over, and searching through the attached papers. Finally, he said. 'Your file seems to be missing a few pages.'

JJ grimaced.

She took a deep breath.

'No,' she told him, 'No, it's all there.'

For about thirty seconds, Swift said nothing. 'Are you sure?' he asked finally, a little embarrassed to be embarrassed about having to even ask the question.

'Welcome to my life,' JJ said, unable to hide the acerbic tone in her voice. She loved her work, she really did, but sometimes it felt as though people didn't see her as anything more than just a background player. It was always about Reid's latest angstfest, or Morgan's latest tackling target, or "which limb of Hotch's can we cut off this week?"

'It's no wonder…' Swift started to speak, but then stopped abruptly. JJ raised an eyebrow.

'No wonder what?'

He shook his head. 'Never mind.'

JJ rolled her eyes. 'I'm what they call a "second string" main. The only time I ever get a plotline, it's so that someone _else_ can get some character development. At first I thought that maybe having a kid might have forced them into giving me something, but no, it gets shoved into the end of a Reid two-parter. Nobody else gets two-parters. I can't even get a _one _-parter.'

Swift nodded, but with the slightest hint of impatience that reminded JJ that she was ranting. 'I'm sorry – you need to do your inspection.'

'I would like to get it over with as soon as possible, yes,' Swift said. He scanned the clipboard for a few seconds with his pen. 'From this…scarce amount of information, the only contradiction I can see is that you somehow went to both the University of Pittsburgh, as noted in the episode _North Mammon_, and Georgetown, in _Zoe's Reprise_. While it's possible that one of these was for postgraduate studies, it was implied not to be the case.'

'It's also entirely possible that I was lying to make Rossi feel better,' JJ argued. _God knows that's all I'm good for. _'Lying isn't out of character.

'But why would you need to lie about where you went to college? Providing false details makes it easier for him to discover that you lied, which would have no doubt made him feel worse.'

'Does it matter?' JJ asked, with some exasperation, now realizing just why Hotch and Morgan had looked so angry after their interviews. Swift's relentlessness was almost infuriating.

Maybe she was just having a long day. The work of a liaison was never done.

'I can't see any other issues here,' Swift announced, finally. 'Compared to your colleagues, you're practically a believable character. More's the pity, really.'

JJ frowned, but was ushered out before she could question the statement further. Out in the hall, she found Garcia, Morgan and Reid.

'Hey.'

'Hey, chickadee,' Garcia greeted her. 'How did it go?'

'Um…weird.' She looked towards Morgan and Reid. 'He wasn't acting…weird, for you guys, was he?'

Morgan scoffed. 'If you mean weird, like he was ruthlessly questioning me about my job history, then yeah.'

She shook her head. 'No, it was…He said some things that made it sound like something was about to happen.'

Reid paled. 'I'm not getting held hostage again, am I?'

'You made that deal, remember?' Garcia told him, with a light punch to the arm. 'They won't give you any hostage situations if you promise not to break any bones.'

Reid sighed in relief. JJ almost laughed. She'd give anything for a hostage situation. At least then, she'd get a little screen-time. As it was, most of her work was implied and off-screen. "Oh, hey, here's a cool scene where we see how JJ deals with the media." "Nah, we don't need that."

'He wants you now, Garcia,' JJ added, only just remembering that she actually had to let the rest of her friends be subject to such horrors. 'If you're willing to ruin his credit history, then I think I can get him humiliated on national television.'

The technical analyst frowned. 'It was that bad? It can't have been that bad.'

Morgan grimaced.

'Yeah,' he said. 'It was that bad.'


	5. Penelope Garcia

**Title: **Inspection  
**Rating: **PG**  
Fandom: **Criminal Minds**  
Characters/Pairing:** Team - gen  
**Genre: **Parody**  
Summary: **It's inspection time, and backstory inconsistencies are going to bite them in the ass.

…

**Inspection**

**Part Five: Penelope Garcia**

Penelope Garcia tried to control her breathing as she walked across the floor to the conference room. Her heels clacked a steady beat, almost in tune with her heart. Hotch and Morgan had both been angry after leaving the office – which, for her hunk o' spunk was nothing new, but the Unit Chief was usually much more controlled. More than that, though, it was the fact that JJ had been so shaken by the man that disconcerted her. Jennifer Jareau did not get shaken by bureaucrats.

The man had his head down as she entered, writing something on his clipboard. He reminded her a little of Hotch, in terms of clothing choices – dark, with a ridiculous amount of starching. The suspenders were different though. There was one major difference that came to light almost immediately. Aaron Hotchner was not a jerk.

'My name is Paul Swift, I'm from the Department of Continuity in Fictional Media. Take a seat please, Agent Garcia.'

She slid into the chair opposite him, and he looked up, staring for a few long seconds.

'Agent Garcia, I feel as though I might need to put on sunglasses if I look at you for too long,' he told her. 'And I don't mean that in a good way. When picking character traits, I feel as though you might have overdone it a little on the quirkiness.'

'That's what makes me interesting,' she said, with a slight pout.

'Interesting, perhaps. Yet my suspension of disbelief only goes so far. While I accept your "Frank Abagnale" method of job hunting, there are certain expectations of behavior that should be upheld.'

Garcia frowned.

'Like…acting professionally. Following the rules. Refraining from excessive flirtation.'

Garcia stared at him. 'That doesn't exactly leave me much choice,' she said. Physical violence was never something she had wished upon another person, but Paul Swift was trying her patience in the worst way possible. This was the kind of situation where she'd hack into his life and ruin his credit rating, but maybe that was the kind of unprofessional behavior that he was talking about.

'Moving on, now,' Swift continued. 'A few minor continuity issues regarding your family – not contradictory, but things are a little unclear. It's not a major issue just yet, but please try to refrain from muddling the issue even further.' He scanned the page again. 'Oh, yes. This is unfortunate.'

Garcia's eyes widened. Whatever was wrong, he seemed a lot frownier about this infraction than he had about the dress code violations or inconsistent backstories.

'As you know, Improper Characterization carries more severe penalties than other misdemeanors, and I'm afraid that this particular one is quite severe. Your professional background is in technical analysis, am I correct?'

'Yes,' Garcia told him, nervous, as well as a little confused. _When had she gone outside the parameters of her job description?_

'It seems ludicrous then, for your character to be the one chosen to screen and present cases – a job that should be conducted by someone with the profiling skills necessary to conduct risk evaluations. And then there's the press conferences—'

'Excuse me,' Garcia interrupted. 'I don't mean to be rude, but…what are you talking about? I don't do any of that stuff. I stay inside my bunker, and hack into people's personal lives. JJ does all of that stuff.'

Swift frowned, and he checked the clipboard again. His eyes widened. 'My apologies. I'm getting a little bit ahead of myself – that's next season. Rest assured I'll be back again to audit you then.'

The man seemed keen to change the subject, but Garcia wasn't exactly done. 'Why would I be doing case screenings and press conferences?' she demanded. 'That's JJ's job. Is she leaving? Is that why you're acting all weird?'

'It's not my position to inform characters of their fates. I'm afraid you'll have to speak to another department if you're concerned.'

'You can't just get rid of JJ,' Garcia told him, and she was flabbergasted that anyone would think that doing so would be a good idea. 'She holds this team together. Get rid of her, and we _all_ fall apart.'

'Like I said, Agent Garcia, I have no control over this. All I know is what's on the clipboard in front of me. If you'd please send in Agent Prentiss for me?'

Garcia tried to argue the point, but Swift had shut down completely, refusing to even acknowledge the questions that she threw at him.

_This was not good_.

When she left the office, Morgan was the only one waiting outside. She grabbed him by the arm and dragged him down the hallway to a more secluded area.

'Garcia, what—?'

'I think JJ's _leaving_,' she told him, in a low, urgent voice .

'What?' Morgan frowned. 'That doesn't make sense. Why would JJ leave?'

'I don't know,' Garcia said. 'But he let slip that I'd be doing press conferences next season. I can't talk to the _press_, Derek. I'm a techie!'

'That is kind of weird,' he admitted. 'But we can't say anything until we know for sure.'

'Oh!' Garcia said. 'I need to go find Emily. It's her turn to have her life ruined.'

Morgan looked like he might be about to disagree, but didn't.

Next season seemed way too close.


	6. Emily Prentiss

**Title: **Inspection  
**Rating: **PG-13**  
Fandom: **Criminal Minds**  
Characters/Pairing:** Team - gen  
**Genre: **Parody**  
Summary: **It's inspection time, and backstory inconsistencies are going to bite them in the ass.

…

**Inspection**

**Part Six: Emily Prentiss**

Emily Prentiss was not overly concerned by the activities of the Department of Continuity in Fictional Media. If she could survive Erin Strauss, she could survive Paul Swift.

Still, it would be a pain in the ass to have him sit there and try to dissect every single facet of her backstory and characterization. It was as though the heart behind it didn't count for a damn thing anymore.

When she entered the office, he was staring at his clipboard, frowning. She slid into the chair opposite him at the round table.

There was a long silence.

'What is _this, _Agent Prentiss?' he asked, sliding a piece of paper across the table. Emily tried not to laugh.

'That's my file, _sir_,' she said, certain to include as much venom as possible in the word "sir." It was more fun than simply saying "fuck you."

'Why is so much of it blacked out?'

'Gee,' she said, feigning ignorance. 'I guess you don't have the right clearance level to read my file. What a pity.'

Really, though, Emily had absolutely no idea why the file was blacked out. It wasn't as though there was anything particularly heinous in her backstory. Just the mandated "deadly and unexpected secret," but most of the team had one of those. These days, it was more surprising to see characters that _didn't___have one.

She was pretty sure that even the _extras_ had secrets.

But that didn't mean she couldn't have fun with it.

'You know, it might have something to do with that time I did contract killings for the KGB. That's need to know, right?'

He gave her a look that quite clearly said he wasn't amused. 'Your attitude isn't helping your position, Agent Prentiss.'

'What position?' she asked bluntly. 'So far, you haven't found anything contradictory. But we both know that that doesn't matter in a witch-hunt. You'll find something.'

His silence was about as much answer as she needed. After a few seconds, he clicked his pen, and scribbled some notes: probably something about her "problems with authority." That much, at least, was semi-canonical; sure, she had problems with people in authority, but only if said people were complete dicks.

Even after all the serial killers, there always seemed to be another villain.

'Let's move on to what we _do_ have, then,' Swift said eventually, clearly disgruntled by her lack of co-operation, and, if her profiling instincts were correct, the lack of co-operation from the rest of the team. There was no way that any of them would have taken this kind of thing lying down.

'It says here that you were in the Bureau for ten years before being accepted into the BAU,' Swift said. 'And even then, that was as the result of Section Chief Strauss pulling strings. "Executive meddling," if you will.'

'Your point?' Emily asked, with a raised eyebrow. She didn't want him to discuss the issue of her recruitment any further than he needed to. Aside from Hotch, the rest of the team didn't know about the circumstances surrounding her joining the BAU, and even if it was a "plot reasons" thing, she wanted to keep her dignity intact.

'My point is that both Agent Reid and Agent Morgan were accepted into the BAU almost immediately after joining the Bureau. With the television suspension of disbelief that Agent Morgan so kindly reminded me of taken into account, it seems illogical to think that someone who is quite clearly capable of profiling was not able to join the Unit sooner.'

'Isn't that a problem with _their _backstories, not mine? For all you know, I could have been busy taking out enemy spies,' she said, casually. For all _she_ knew, it was true – for some inane reason, they weren't allowed to know secret backstories too far in advance. Something about keeping the storylines fluid. Privately, Emily felt that it was because whoever was in charge of the backstories hadn't quite had time to pull it out of their ass yet. And maybe there was a little something in there about gender as well, but she didn't really want to open that can of worms.

Swift didn't answer, which probably meant that she was right.

'Moving on,' he said, abruptly. 'As with some of your colleagues, there are some inconsistencies with regards to your education. In your first episode, you made it quite clear that you had attended Yale, whereas two seasons later, you referred to Georgetown as the college that you had attended.'

'I'm not allowed to attend more than one college?' she asked, eyebrow raised. 'I didn't realize that character restrictions had gotten so tough.'

'Please refrain from smart-mouthing me, Agent Prentiss. Remember that your fate lies in my hands. One whisper in the right ear, and I could have you written off.'

Emily tried to stop herself from snorting. Who the hell did this guy think he was?

The rest of his questions were mundane, and irritatingly pedantic, as if anyone really cared that much about her shoes.

When she left the briefing room, Morgan and Garcia were hanging around outside, apparently trying to look nonchalant.

'Well?' Morgan demanded.

Emily wrinkled her brow. 'It was weird.'

'He was asking you the same questions he was asking the rest of us, right? Backstory inconsistencies or some bullshit?'

'Yeah,' Emily nodded. 'That wasn't the weird bit though.' She shook her head. 'I don't know. I kinda feel like something's going on that we don't know about.'

Morgan shot Garcia a look, and Emily got the idea that she wasn't the only one with suspicions.

'So,' Garcia said. Her voice was wavering. 'What are we going to do?'


	7. David Rossi

**Title: **Inspection  
**Rating: **PG**  
Fandom: **Criminal Minds**  
Characters/Pairing:** Team - gen  
**Genre: **Parody**  
Summary: **It's inspection time, and backstory inconsistencies are going to bite them in the ass.  
**Author's Note: **Trying to finish off as many stories as possible. Tell me what you want to see.

…

**Inspection**

**Part Seven: David Rossi**

David Rossi was not overly perturbed by the looks of worry on the team's face as he entered the conference room. Of course, it would have been much easier to avoid the meeting entirely, and just have coffee with Swift's boss to smooth things over, but in all honesty, he wanted to piss this guy off as much as possible.

That was something he was pretty good at.

Swift was already seated at one end of the circular table, making notes against the file on his clipboard. When Rossi stepped in, Swift hurried to finish off his sentence, before flipping the page.

'Agent Rossi, it's a pleasure to meet you,' the man said, in a voice that indicated it was anything but a pleasure. 'I'm sure you know why I'm here?'

'You're doing the requisition orders for the new office fittings, right? I was going to repaint, but do you think we could get the skirting boards replaced? They don't really go so well with the rest of the room.'

'Agent Rossi.'

'And then there's the desk. You know, I just don't think it's…_grandiose_ enough for a man of my importance. Could we get something a little bigger? Maybe with a solid gold edging?'

'I can see how you earned your status as a Deadpan Snarker, Agent Rossi,' Swift said, unimpressed. 'Now if you're finished playing around, I would like to assess the inconsistencies in your backstories.'

Rossi grunted, and turned his attention away from Swift to the phone in his hand.

'First of all, there's an inconsistency with the Galen case.'

'Don't care,' Rossi interjected, not looking up from his phone.

'Agent Rossi, if you would please give me your attention – these backstory concerns are not something to be laughed at.'

'Oh, I know,' he said, without looking up. 'For the good of the show, keep the fans invested, yadda yadda. Sorry, I'm just trying to beat this high score on Angry Birds. Have you played this level? It's the one with the yellow bird and all the dynamite and—you know what? It's probably easier if I just show you.'

He turned the screen so that Swift could see it properly, and the other man did not take the bait. Instead, he frowned and made what were probably very disparaging remarks about Rossi on his clipboard.

'Your uncooperative behavior has been noted. You should expect disciplinary action sometime in the next three to ten seasons.'

'Excuse me for just one second,' Rossi said, giving Swift a smile that had no humor behind it whatsoever. 'I have to make a very important call.' He dialed a number on his phone that had been dialed so many times before in the past. 'Hi, Rudy, it's Dave. Yeah, I'm good – you? How's the wife? That's good. Can I get a deep dish Italian sausage with mushrooms and bell peppers, hold the onion.'

Swift stared at him.

'Very important,' Rossi repeated, pointing at the phone. He knew they wouldn't ever get rid of him. The team needed a gruff, but loveable senior agent who had seen it all, or something like that. Mostly, he was concerned that this so-called "inspection" was going to cut in on his _Guitar Hero_ time. 'We're done here, right?'

Swift exited haughtily, and Rossi grinned to himself.

_That, folks, is how you get rid of the canon inspector_.

'He didn't seem particularly happy,' Morgan commented, when Rossi shut the door of the conference room behind him. Swift was standing by Hotch's office, apparently waiting for a signature.

'Well, I wasn't particularly forthcoming,' Rossi said, to which Emily snorted out a laugh.

'It's unlikely that any action will result from this,' Reid said, matter-of-factly. 'Even in shows as continuity-sparse as Doctor Who, consequences rarely come from backstory infractions. There's too much red tape, and the appeal avenues are too varied. It's just easier to remind us that they're watching, and most shows keep to their backstories from fear of repercussions.'

'Here he comes again,' Garcia whispered, and they all straightened. Before Swift even made it halfway down the hallway, he stopped, catching sight of someone – or something – just past them.

'Paul Swift?' The latest arrival from the Council of Fictional Characters Review Board was wearing a dark suit, and dark sunglasses. If he wasn't some kind of canon inspector, Rossi might have pegged him as a CIA agent – fictional, of course. Real spies that played up the suave suits and expensive sunglasses tended to get their asses killed pretty quickly.

'Director Sodder.' Swift straightened, adjusting his tie behind the clipboard pressed to his chest. 'I'm just finishing up my interviews now – I should have my completed findings to you by—'

'Enough of that,' Sodder interjected sharply. 'There are some very serious accusations in question, here.'

'As I said, my findings—'

'Not accusations regarding _them_, Swift,' Sodder said, sternly. 'Accusations about _you_.' He pulled out his own clipboard. 'I have a list here, from the Department of Fandom Communications. There have been an influx of reports describing you as a jerk, a douchenozzle, and…' He frowned. 'An _assclown_. Whatever that means.'

'With all due respect, sir, those don't sound like "allegations." Just insults.' Swift's voice had taken on the same indignant tone that Rossi recognized in his colleagues. It was almost ironic.

Sodder flipped over a few pages of the clipboard. 'Trust me on this, Agent Swift, there are more than enough pages of response for us to get through, allegations included. This is what happens when you upset the Department of Fandom Communications. Do you know what kind of power they have? You cancel Jericho, and they send ten million dollars worth of _peanuts_ to the network. If you're going to conducted a canon inspection, then at least do it subtly! Now come with me, before someone decides to write you in as a murder victim.'

'"Who inspects the canon of the canon inspectors?"' Garcia lamented, staring after Swift and Sodder's retreating forms.

'_Qui inspicit_...' Reid frowned, as if trying to search for a Latin equivalent to the word "canon."

'Did someone order a pizza?' A voice called out from the elevator bank: a young man in a blue polo shirt, looking thoroughly confused about how he'd suddenly ended up in the FBI building at Quantico.

'Over here,' Rossi called out. 'I hope you all like deep dish pepperoni.'

'I think I'm a vegetarian,' Garcia said, frowning. 'I'm not sure.'

'I'm not even sure I like _pizza_,' Morgan added.

'You're from Chicago, I'm pretty sure it's impossible for you to not like pizza.'

'Alright, what's our next crisis?'

It was Hotch who had the answer, any anger he might have had at Swift's interruptions masked with a face of pure stoicism.

'I understand that some of the concerns of the Department of Continuity in Fictional Media were unfounded, but there is one specific issue that I would like to address.' There was an awkward silence, and the team looked at him, unsure. Thanks to Swift's thinly veiled hints, they knew that _something_ was coming up next season. Had Hotch finally gone over to the Dark Side?

'Hotch?'

'This is something a long time coming, and frankly, I know that not everyone will be pleased about it, but it has to be done.'

He took a deep breath.

'We're giving Reid a haircut.'


End file.
